


Dream A Little Dream of Me

by waltermitty



Series: Peggy and Steve Lovin and Livin Because They Really Deserve It [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Multi, Other, PLEASE AVOID IF U HAVE NOT SEEN ENDGAME, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve loves Peggy, Steve loves Tony, dis sad, if u havent seen avengers endgame do not read this fic, im so sorry, it pays off, spoilers baby dont read it if u dont wanna see spoilers!!!!, steve finally does something selfish, steve loves bucky, we love steve in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 14:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18625567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltermitty/pseuds/waltermitty
Summary: ----WARNING- THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS ABOUT ENDGAME. IF YOU HAVE NOT SEE THE MOVIE DO NOT READ THIS FIC.----For those of us who have seen the endgame, I wanted to write a little add on to the end. I think we are all experiencing so many emotions over this film and I hope this helps a bit





	Dream A Little Dream of Me

**Author's Note:**

> ok when i first wrote this I was high as a motherfucker and so happy they didn't kill my bou steve but they might as well have bc uhhh that is NOT my steve rogers thank u very much. stupidass bitch would NOT leave his freinds behind for peggy carter bc MY steve rogers respects women and is a bisexual king.

Steve finds himself in 1970, captain’s uniform clinging to his muscular frame, ball cap shoved over his head, aviators blocking his eyes. He slips through hallways and offices, finds the vials of Pym particles, slips into a dark room so to avoid approaching security. He’s met face to face with a framed photograph of himself, that stupid punk from Brooklyn. He recognizes the picture from his first day at basic training, face set into a grimace, firm salute at his forehead, bony fingers pressed together as if they might break apart. His dog tags sit within a concave chest, blonde hair spilling over his forehead. His chest aches harder now, compass tucked into his shirt, laying over his heart. He hears her voice then, places the framed photo back on the desk next to him, head slightly turning to read the name on the door. Margaret Carter it reads, and his heart thrums again. a live wire. Turning back to the window, the blinds shading him in the dark, he watches her stalk into the room, black hair tucked back neatly, streaks of gray coloring it. He feels tears start to prick as she strides through paperwork, barks orders to a man in a suit. His heart is shoving against the compass, begging him to kick through the glass and just hold her, one last time. He swallows the urge to call her name, and backs slowly through the office door, vials tucked away, head down as he searches for Tony. He finds him talking to his father, waits for him near an abandoned humvee. Tony nods his assurance and tilts his briefcase ever so slightly, and within moments they’re back in Avengers HQ. 

The battle is finished. Tony has died for them, died to save their world. Steve cries for days, sobs into Pepper’s shoulder. They hold a small ceremony for him by the lake of his house, setting adrift his arc reactor. He is at peace, Steve knows. Bucky and Sam embrace him, offering their silent comfort. They spend a day together, familiar and peaceful, no looming threat on their horizon. He watches his friends moon over one another fondly, Sam doting on Bucky like some sort of giant mother hen. He misses Peggy, he dreams of her smile, her laugh. The way she pinned her curls back, the way she shot at him that fateful night. Steve offers to return the stones to their timelines, Banner is in no form to do so, and everyone else is exhausted to their very bones. He offers, so that he may have a glimpse of her one last time. Bucky seems to know something he yet doesn't, as he pats him on the shoulder and stares warm at him with those steel blue eyes. Sam flanks him, offers a handshake and a smile, tells him to be safe and that he’ll see him soon. “I’ll miss ya, pal.” Is all that Bucky says, sounding more than a little choked up. Steve swallows his tears, tears he can’t place yet, and steps onto the panel, holding the gauntlet. Banner presses some buttons, and he’s whisked away.  
Steve deposits the stones neatly in their times, saving the trip to the ’70s for last. When he arrives, placing the tesseract neatly in its vault, he swings by Peggy’s office. Steve knew why Bucky had been crying when he said goodbye, in that moment. Watching her there, curls pinned back, tendrils falling gentle over her forehead, nothing seemed more important. 

He arrives moments after he crashed the plane into the ice. He couldn’t forget that day if he tried, he carried it with him through war, in the nights where he laid awake, afraid it’d be another 70 years when he awoke again. He swallows the fear that’s ever rising in his throat and pushes open the door to Peggy’s office. She’s slumped over the desk, shoulders rising and falling in gentle heaves, graceful even in her grief. Her left hand is clutching the radio she had been talking to him with, metal dented ever so lightly where her fingers left imprints. He straightens his uniform, the necktie ever so familiar, scratchy against his throat. “I know you said we’d have that dance a week from today, at the stork club.” He starts, as her head whips up, curls falling around her shoulders, so familiar it hurts. “And I- don’t I still don’t know how to dance. I just couldn’t wait a week for you.” She’s staring at him, and though she’d never admit it, her mouth hangs slightly agape, her mascara smudged in dark rivulets under her eyes. “Steve?” she whispers, voice trembling. Steve chokes back a sob, hearing her say his name, and he surges forward, wrapping her in his arms. They sit like this for a while, holding each other for what feels like hours. Finally, she pulls away from him ever so slightly, necktie slightly askew, hair in disarray. “How are you-” She motions about, as if to make her point, her accent ever so poised, oozing calm even though he knows her well enough to see behind the calm resolve she’s terrified. “I’m from the future.” He begins, watches her lips quirk in the most beautiful way. “Ah, James would have loved this.” She replies, mischievous smile on her lips. He nods, shaking his head slightly, fear clawing up his throat again, grief over losing Bucky once more rising. He begins to tell her of his future. That he was frozen for 70 years, that he woke up alone in a new world. He tells her of Bucky, the Winter Soldier, he tells her of Hydra, of her death. He tells her of Thanos, of the battle of New York. She listens to him, enraptured. He finally tells her of how he got here. “After a lifetime without you-a lifetime of fighting, of wars- when it was all over I thought I’d finally be satisfied. As I found myself returning these stones to their times, resetting the timelines, I realized the future held nothing for me anymore. The future doesn’t have you.” She smiles up at him, tucked against his chest. “So you are telling me, Steven Grant Rogers, that we will have our dance?” She shakes her head ever so slightly, curls bouncing against her cheeks. “Yes, ma’am.” is all he can reply, content to tuck her into his chest and rest here. He breathes in her scent, the smell of pure Peggy. His heart is thick with grief, and he knows that he is not the Steve she fell in love with so many years ago. She’s his Peggy though, and he knows that she loves him all the same.

A week from that day they’re married, married in a small chapel down the street from the Stork dance club. Their first dance is clumsy and Steve can’t help but beg the band to play something slow, so that he doesn’t step on her toes too much. She looks like an angel, all swathed in white, curls tumbling loosely around her. He kisses her as they dance, feels like he’s home. They dance for hours, swaying back and forth until the band has long packed their instruments, their music floating out the chapel doors and into the ever-darkening streets. Years later, they dance to the sound of their record player, Peggy’s hair a delightful shade of gray, still curled ever so beautifully. Steve holds her close, holds her tight. They make their life together, their house with its white picket fence, their dog Bucky, a handsome fellow, a three-legged mutt they found on mission years back. He lays contentedly on their easy chair as they sway in the living room, every Sunday the record spins on as they sing something slow. Steve still steps on her toes, and she laughs at him every time. Sunbeams flicker through their blinds, painting them in a golden glow. She watches him as they hold one another close, blonde hair soaking up the sunlight as if it’s glowing itself. He is handsome even in his age, as she always dreamed he would be. The gray weathering his temples, the laugh lines in his cheeks. His strong hands grip her tight, tethering her to him. He sings to her, softly and out of tune, crooning in her ear as he used too so long ago. And as they sway, as they dance themselves into oblivion, Steve never regrets it for a second. They grow old with one another, watching the rise and fall of empires by one another's sides. He misses her deeply when she passes, knowing he’s close behind. It’s the ache of a life well spent, a life with the woman he loved for so long.

He finds himself sat at that very lake where they buried Tony all those years ago. The impact has never left him, it has molded him as he ages. At first glance, the sacrifice was for the greater good, so that everyone may live in peace. If ever he knew anything he knows that for him, his life was elsewhere. It is with great assurance that he knows Tony hadn't died in vain. He misses him deeply, he knows he will see him again, he and Peggy are probably having a hell of a time swapping stories of their Steve. Peggy was the love that transcended lifetimes, but god if Steve didn't love Tony. As he watches the sun flicker over the lake, he sends up a silent thank you to Tony. He has spent millennia now, the greatest honor and privilege of his days to love them, two lifetimes worth. He knows that for Sam and Bucky and Banner and Pepper it was all of 5 minutes, but for him, it has been a life well lived. He watches the waves ripple as the sunlight dances across the water, hears the sound of their footsteps approaching. “So. Wanna tell me about her?” Sam asks, gentle and knowing. Steve just smiles, a weathered old smile, shield by his side, twirls the simple band on his finger. “No. I don’t think I will.” She is his memory and his alone in this. Sam understands, he knows. As he watches the water flicker, he recalls their lives together, dreams of the day that she’ll offer him her hand, ever so ladylike, and say “Steven. I believe you owe me a dance.” and pull him into her arms, dance them into eternity.


End file.
